The Runaway of Shadybrook
by Ithiyan
Summary: A child is given his path.


Tolem loved running. He was good at it. But this wasn't exactly the same thing.

Tolem was running for his life.

He'd escaped justice for over a fortnight now, and had been tired for longer, scared longer still. He knew his eventual capture would spell his death. The townsfolk had never warmed to his existence, no matter the labor he excised or pleasantries he faked. In truth, he rather liked being alone, which was one comfort he had while on the run.

However, his mother would worry herself sick. He'd left her childless, and no doubt she cried to herself everyday for his return, if only to see him again at trial. Maybe she was devising a way to help him escape...but no, his thoughts would not allow him to put her in harm's way at all. He would not go to her for sanctuary. He still did love her very much.

His would-be captor was not far behind. These woods were shaded from the thick canopy overhead, large oaks and maples mostly. Tolem needed to be wary of his footsteps to not leave traces to follow, but it was getting more and more difficult to find ground without leaves to shuffle or branches to snap underfoot, so he ran faster still. Perhaps if he could just reach the next town he'd find refuge, but the fact remained he'd not ever been this far into the Shadowfell woods.

Along the path a haze appeared ahead of him, no, all around him. His vision blurred, unable to focus no matter his resolve, and his running slowed to a shamble. It got worse quite quickly, to which he could only make out shapes and colors. A figure stepped into his muddied vision, a tall black brush stroke that billowed with the light breeze.

"Tolem, you're wanted for the assault and battery of Stonecarver Arlo Hopstitch," the figure proclaimed loudly in a rumbling basso. "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be and your vision will return to you shortly."

Tolem panicked and ran the opposite direction, tears forming in his useless young eyes. "No! I can't go back! They'll kill me!"

His flight was ended quite quickly as he tripped on a branch and fell, cracking his chin on a stone, and biting his own tongue. The copper taste flooded his mouth immediately.

"Stop that, boy, you're just going to hurt yourself more," the man said sympathetically.

Tolem spat blood to the ground, and tried in vain to see his captor more clearly. As best he could tell he was a human adult, dark of hair and cloth, the rest too blurred to discern. He sat up, covering his mouth as it oozed blood.

"Stay right there, I'm going to hand you some water to rinse that out. There's not much I can do for it otherwise, tongues have to heal on their own." Tolem accepted the flask and did as he was told. He drank some of it, since his thirst had not been been sated for some time while on the run.

"Now then. We've got to get you back. You've been gone a few weeks now, and your presence is required at the stocks for trial, I imagine." Tolem heard those words and trembled. He tried to reply, but more blood came out between his pointed teeth and the words were garbled nonsense. "Try that not again, young one. You'll need time until you can talk. Fortunately for you you'll be able to speak in your defense at trial. We've several days walk back to your village."

The escort never talked, he just guided Tolem along. Tolem was bound at the wrists, and roped around his center, leashed to prevent a nighttime escape. His vision returned within a day, and he could finally make out the rugged features of his captor. A middle aged man of brown hair and eye who wore a goatee that attempted to cover a scar across his mouth but in most aspects failed. He wore a simple cloak that concealed all manner of blades, and a hunting how and quiver along his back. He was built for endurance, rigid muscle beneath his lean frame.

Tolem regained some semblance of speech a few days more, the pain having largely subsided in his mouth.

"Please don't take me back there," he pleaded several times, and with unerring resolve, was met with no reply.

Tolem eventually gave up with the pleas in favor of defense, a defense he'd need to concoct well if he'd have a hope of a life once judgement was passed. "He tried to get me angry. He made me mad on purpose," Tolem said with solemnity. "He kept saying that my mother's a whore to lie with that saw-toothed brute. I told him my mom was raped, it wasn't his business, leave me alone. Then he said it wasn't my fault I was thick, it was in my blood. So I hit him. Over and over, to get him to shut up."

His escort sighed. "I know. I heard it from a few people that day, though the Stonecarver recalls it differently. He says you were being obstinate about coming to move rock for him."

"That's a lie! Just because I'm big for my age he works me as a mule to load stone. I had been already asked to go gather fruits and herbs from the woods by Millie. I wouldn't do it then and there but he kept insisting and then started insulting."

"I know that too," came his reply, "but that still doesn't give you right to hit your elders. Why would the town doctor ask you to go gathering anyway? Shouldn't that be left to the maidens?"

"Normally they do, but the hard-to-get ones are much deeper in the forest, and I know my way and can protect myself if need be from any beasts. The maidens are much to afraid to gather any mudberries or neta leaves."

"Mmm."

"Can I ask you something?" Tolem looked up.

"Mmm?"

"What's your name?"

"Marshal Reinhart."

"What's a marshal?"

Over the next several days Tolem grew to learn much from the soft spoken man, who was willing to humor the boy with stories of his exploits, even tips and tricks of woodland survival given their surroundings. They talked of hunting and their favorite and most challenging quarries. Reinhart was naturally more accomplished but couldn't help but being impressed at the boy's tales.  
"What will happen to me?" Tolem asked, looking pensive.

Reinhart looked him over. Tolem was not yet a man grown, but able-bodied and strong. Still, many would want to see him gone in the village, but Reinhart couldn't help but think that his still apparent youth would give him the leniency he desired. "A trial, no doubt."

"Will you tell them it wasn't my fault?"

"No, Tolem, I'd not lie for you," he said flatly.

"But it's not-"

"Yes it is, Tolem. You attacked him, even if provoked it's no way to act," Reinhart explained. "Besides that, most everyone in town already knows what happened, it's just a matter of what they want to do with you."

Tolem looked at his feet, plowing through leaves. "I'm to die then?"

"Goodness no, child, you're still too young to be accounted for as such."

Considering the townsfolk have never taken well to his half-bred nature, Tolem expected no less than death, regardless of what Reinhart says. Despite his size, he was still only thirteen summers old. Tolem thought about running once more, and quickly dashed away his hopes. If this man found him once, he'd do it again.

The two plodded on through the woods a good while into the evening. After a short break for rations, they set up a light camp. Reinhart would only permit himself sleep after he'd sufficiently bound the boy and was sure he was asleep. The fire keeping them warm was a well enough measure against woodland predators.

A limb cracked in two, and Reinhart woke with a tension grabbing his belt knife. He scanned all around him, but saw nothing move. Nothing at all. Leaves and branches did not sway, and the faint moonlight poked only dim holes upon the darkness. The fire had since turned to embers, barely even smoking anymore. Tolem was nowhere to be found.

Reinhart slowly rose to a crouch, and peered over to Tolem's improvised bedroll of soft dirt. He investigated potential tracks leading away from their campsite, but came up short about five paces from his origin point. Looking around further, he heard a grunt from well behind him. He spun around.

That's when he was hit by the arrow.

Reinhart reeled back, the shaft stuck out of his sword arm's shoulder. The fire of pain burned through him, but it was not the first time he'd been shot. Through watery eyes he saw them come, and steeled his resolve with his knife in hand.

Four goblins rushed his position, more arrows flying past him. He took quick cover behind a nearby tree, and leaned out from behind it in one smooth motion and loosed his knife, hitting one square in the heart, its dark lifeblood quickly escaping.

The remaining three hesitated, but seeing as he now wasn't armed, drew their crude swords from their scabbards. Evil grins spread across their faces, revealing stained pointed teeth. Reinhart prepared for them to come, to seize a weapon for his own, if possible.

A shout came from above, and everyone looked up, just in time to see Tolem come down feet first from the tree above and landing squarely on one of the goblin's shoulders. They both fell to the earth with a terrible thump, the goblin crying out in intense pain.

The other goblins were so stunned and having to turn their attention that they didn't see Reinhart come up from behind them and wrestle the closest one for its sword. The goblin immediately pulled back and away, and Reinhart's shoulder failed him as he lost his grip, and his enemy followed through with a deep cut to his thigh, near dropping him.

Meanwhile, Tolem scrambled to his feet, only to jump backward out of the way of a long slash for his chest. The goblin sneered at him, and lunged forward to commit to an overhead swipe. Tolem rushed forward and put his shoulder the goblin's chest before he could complete his strike, and knocked him to the ground. Tolem looked up for a moment to see Reinhart hobbled, and as his captor's enemy bore down on him with another potentially lethal blow Tolem leapt up and tackled the other goblin to the ground as well. He punched the goblin as hard as he could, repeatedly in the head until it didn't struggle anymore.

Reinhart grabbed the closest discarded sword and set upon the temporarily grounded goblin, who stood up to watch his comrade be pummeled about the face. Reinhart caught his attention with a poke to the chest, to which the goblin winced and snarled. Even though injured, a small grin set upon Reinhart's face as he quickly disarmed the goblin and ran him through, glad at his small turn of vengeance.

"Tell me what happened," Reinhart asked impatiently.

They had broken camp after dealing with the goblins, moving hurriedly to evacuate in the case of any more potential roaming bands. Tolem wound up packing most things, even after removing the arrow from Reinhart's shoulder. "I had undone my binding shortly after you fell asleep, and made to get away. But soon after I freed myself I heard something off southernly, and I climbed the tree to get a better look. That's when you woke up. I didn't call out because I didn't want to call more trouble to myself."

Reinhart stared into the young half-breed's steel gray eyes, looking for some whim, some reason of his rescue. "You could have made it free once again, and likely with me dispatched no one would come looking for you for a very long time. Why bother trying to save me?"

Tolem reeled back and frowned. "You're welcome."

"Yes, yes. Now why?" Reinhart persisted and limped closer. "After weeks of running away and the opportunity presents itself, you don't act on that?"

"I did act on it, sir," Tolem corrected. "If I'd done nothing you'd likely have died back there. I couldn't do nothing and just watch it happen, even if it did mean I'd still have to face my judgement."

Reinhart looked him over once more, unsure of exactly what to think. This young man was obviously more than he appeared. It reminded him of someone.

"You're bleeding again, sir," Tolem pointed at his leg. "Let me re-bandage that for you, then we can set off since it's almost daybreak."

The village of Shadybrook was buzzing with the excitement of the day. Poor Jihl Hawthorn's half-bred son had returned with the Marshal, and in a place as devoid of events as Shadybrook, this was news for the entire village indeed.

Jihl set eyes upon her boy and didn't move. She wept. He strode in town unbound, helping the apparently wounded Marshal walk. She continued to stare at her son through her window, only after several moments of recalling the boy's pleas of innocence throughout his defense. She had chastised him for his actions, angry with his lack of control. And then he left, running away while she knew he'd last seen her angry at him. She couldn't bear it if anything happened to him, and was ever so grateful that the village contacted a Marshal to bring him in. She knew he stood a much better chance of seeing him again with a Marshal capturing him rather than him fending for himself. He was just a boy. Her boy. And oh, how he looked like him.

She walked out of her house slowly as a crowd had already gathered around the two new arrivals. Raston, the village elder, had already been talking with the Marshal, and Stonecutter Arlo was shouting at the boy through what teeth he had left.

"Quiet now, quiet!" Raston had to shout over the crowd. "Since we're all here, it's best to get this done with quick and simple-like. We've all heard Arlo's side of the story, so let's have it boy, what happened?"

"He ran away and left me with missing teeth, that's what happened!" Arlo yelled. "Guilty ones always run, and everyone knows it!"

"Pipe down, Arlo!" Raston interjected. "You've said your piece. Have the boy tell us what happened."

The crowd leered at Tolem, who was suddenly more frightened than he'd ever been in his life. He couldn't understand what they expected him to say that would somehow prove his innocence, the Marshal had taught him as much. Even repeating the insults thrown his way would be no reprieve, as most villagers probably shared the same sentiment.

Tolem looked up to see his mother. She had tears fill her eyes. He gave her the faintest of smiles, but frowned when he delivered, "I assaulted the Stonecutter. I should never have done it but I did it and I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't get my teeth back, you ugly cur!" Arlo was still angry. "Hang this bastard!"

The crowd cheered at the prospect, and Jihl watched on with horror. Her pleas of leniency fell on deaf ears with the roar of the mob escalating. Rotten vegetables were thrown at the boy.

Raston looked with a disappointed sigh at Tolem and Arlo, and proclaimed "There are laws here, and none apply assault as a crime with hanging as a punishment. But punishment will be delivered. Tolem is hereby sentenced to be Arlo's indentured servant for no less than five years, at which time he will be released from his civil obligation."

Tolem looked from his mother to Reinhart, a terrified look on his face. "He'll kill me!" Tolem whispered. "The first chance he gets he'll kill me and claim it an accident! He hates me so much, please help me, say something!"

Reinhart looked to Tolem. He had already made his mind up before they got there, but the villagers needed to see some semblance of justice be wrought, however fruitless.

Reinhart looked to Raston, and pulled his shoulder to turn the old man. "I have reason to believe this young man is a perfect new recruit for the King's Marshal service. I am invoking the right to conscript him."

The crowd was in an uproar, hurling all manner of insults, criticisms, and discarded leftovers. Raston and Arlo were stunned but nonetheless shouted alongside the rest in outrage.

Tolem looked to his mother, who was crying, a smile across her lips.

Reinhart raised his voice above the shouts. "Listen all, this boy suffers at your behest, but he knows his right from wrong. We were attacked and he could have run free and left me for dead, but he fought to save my life! Keep that in your hearts as he trains to defend the laws you so value!"

Tolem looked up with confusion and delight, first from not being sure of what he'd been asked to do, and second from not caring so long as it wasn't what he'd been sentenced to do.

"Bugger off, you ungrateful lot!" Reinhart dispersed the crowd with his solid intimidating stare. Maybe he'd learn how to do that someday too, Tolem thought.

Jihl walked to meet her son, still tearing up, but a relief in her voice. "I thought I'd lost you, son," She put her arms around him fiercely, to which he returned. "I love you so much." Her words turned to sobs on her son's chest.

"Don't worry mother, I'm fine, and I'll be fine," he said hopefully. "If I'm to do something, I'd like this more than anything. Marshal Reinhart has told me many stories of his exploits and it feels like the right thing for me. No one in the village would bother me anymore."

"But I don't want to lose you again," Jihl cried.

"He's not to be lost, ma'am," Reinhart commented. "He's to be given direction, is more like."


End file.
